


Darker the Night, Deeper the Grief

by KatyaZel



Series: Long Shadows [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (past) - Freeform, Depressed Remus Lupin, Depression, Family, Grief/Mourning, Hope goes to London, Hope is a good mom, Hurt/Comfort, Mother-Son Relationship, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-08-29 15:04:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16746271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatyaZel/pseuds/KatyaZel
Summary: Hope Lupin knows this: all her son's friends are either dead, or Sirius Black. It's December 1981, and she's scared for him. So she pays him a visit in London and finds things as dire as she'd feared. Getting Remus to talk about any of it will take all weekend, but she tries to be patient.Mostly takes place over two days: chapter 1: Saturday, chapter 2: Sunday.





	1. Chapter 1

Hope Lupin knew enough to be worried. She knew her son was alive and that none of his friends were. Except Sirius Black, and she suspected that was perhaps more painful. She would read through the _Prophet_ when Lyall left it on the table, and while the tone was still all celebration, things looked bleak for her son.

“I think I’m going to visit Remus in London,” she told Lyall one evening as they cleaned up after dinner. “I’m worried about him.”

Lyall gave her a thoughtful look. “Are you sure? He said he’d spend Christmas with us, and that’s only, what, two weeks from now? I don’t know that it’s worth the trip for you. He seems to be doing alright.”

Hope didn’t laugh, but she could have. _“Lyall,”_ she said, “When will  you learn not to trust a thing that boy writes us? For three years he was risking his life, and all we ever got was good news.” She shook her head. “No, I think I’d best go.”

Lyall shrugged. “If you think so, dear.” He gave Hope a smile that she knew meant he was humoring her. It used to bother her, when they were much, much younger, but she knew enough now not to resent it. He thought he was humoring her, she knew she was right; both could be true.

Hope called her son that night to ask if she might stay for a day or two. At first, he didn’t answer; she had to call twice more throughout the evening before he picked up the phone. Finally, though, her son’s tired, flat voice came through the line. “Hello?”

“Remus, dear, it’s your mum. How are you?”

She could almost see him straighten up his spine and alter his expression. In a much brighter tone, he answered, “Mum, hi. I’m doing pretty well. How are you and dad?”

Hope wondered at the sudden shift in his tone, but replied. “We’re both well, dear. I was just talking about coming to stay in London for the weekend. How about it? Can you offer a couch and some time to your mum?”

There was a considerable pause on the other end. Finally, in a voice too upbeat, Remus said, “That sounds wonderful, actually. This weekend? When would you get in? What time?”

“I’d probably catch the train early Saturday morning. No need for you to meet me, of course, I can find my way to your flat just fine.” Hope was relieved that he was receptive to the idea, but she could hear the slight train in his voice and worried about inconveniencing him. “And you needn’t worry about entertaining me for a weekend, if you’re busy. I just want to come and visit, do some shopping for Christmas.” She remembered, when Remus was very young, the two of them walking through London in the snow, hand in hand, he excitedly pointing at window displays. She remembered this and smiled, hoping perhaps he’d come shopping with her.

“It all sounds lovely, mum, I’ll make sure I’m home Saturday til you arrive, yeah?” Hope had a hard time telling over the phone, but he seemed about as well as she could expect.

“Alright, Remus. I’ll see you then.” They got off the phone and Lyall looked up expectantly at Hope. “I’m going Saturday morning.”

“And how did he sound?”

She paused. “He sounded alright. Not quite well, maybe, but alright.” Lyall gave Hope a thorough look, but he had never been one for the easy comprehension of emotional half-truths, so he took her word for it.

***

When her train arrived in London, Hope tightened her scarf around her neck. She wished it were newer, she wished her gloves were warmer, she wished her coat had fewer patches. But these concerns weighed little against her worry for her son. She had replayed their conversation in her head several times and come to the conclusion that she was right to think the worst. Now, she made the last leg of her journey, by bus and on foot, as quickly as she could.

The first time she had visited Remus here, she had been horrified. The building itself was bad enough, with its tenuous staircases and collapsing door frames. The flat had accumulated layers of filth which were now inherent to its structure, and which no amount of deep cleaning could remove. But the neighborhood was what had most alarmed her then, nearly three years ago. “Remus, a man on the corner tried to sell me heroin _._ And you’re living next to a flagrant brothel. One of the prostitutes pulled a knife on someone in the doorway as I passed.”

Then, all her concerns about the neighborhood, though serious, had been ameliorated by what she perceived as both the literal and emotional safety of the flat itself. In a typically charming boast, Sirius had told her, “Mrs. Lupin, you’re looking at the cleverest wizards to graduate Hogwarts since old Albus himself. Nothing in this neighborhood will get to us. I won’t let it.” With that last sentence, and the determined half smile he gave her as he said it, he had communicated to Hope just how much true affection lay under his bravado.

Now, as she let herself in, Hope fought back a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold. “Remus, dear? Hello?” She hadn’t expected to feel so immediately Sirius’s absence and all it implied. It seemed to lower the ceilings, tighten the corners. Normally, he would have leapt up and wrapped her in a signature hug. In light of all she now knew, she found herself not only missing him presently but also reevaluating every time he had welcomed her over the last three years. When had he decided?

Again, she called out to the dark flat. “Remus?”

“Just a minute,” came the response from the kitchen, “I’m pouring tea. I’ll be right out.”

Hope peered around the dim flat, shades all drawn and lights all off. Everything was just slightly wrong. There were books on every surface, as usual, but they all had a tired layer of dust on them. The usual bowl of biscuits sat on the coffee table, but when Hope bit into one, it nearly cracked her teeth, it was so stale. Worst of all was the teacup sitting next to Sirius’s armchair, in which was growing an insidious, sickeningly white, mold.

Hope, sitting on the edge of the Sofa, looked up brightly when her son walked in, and fought to maintain that brightness as every part of her screamed _he is not okay._ He set down two cups of tea on the coffee table and she stood to hug him. “It’s good to see you, darling,” she sighed.

“You too, mum. Good to see you.” He extricated himself from her embrace and sunk into the corner of the sofa, his smile utterly unconvincing. Hope steeled herself; she knew that neither pity nor her own sorrow would be helpful.

“How are you, dear?” she asked, trying to meet his eyes, which were slightly too wide.

“I’m doing alright, given everything. Holding up, you know?” His blank smile and unfocused eyes belied the statement. The more Hope really looked at him, the more signs she saw that he was hanging on by a rapidly deteriorating thread. His hair hadn’t been washed in weeks, and he hadn’t shaved in as long; new scars seemed to have appeared in too many places; his hands shook a little as he sipped his tea.

Hope didn’t immediately push him, though. There was time. She took the conversational burden off of him and caught him up on the neighborhood, Lyall, his grandparents. Whatever she could think of while simultaneously monitoring his expression, which continued to be a blank.

When she started to run out of steam, she glanced at her watch; about two. “Why don’t we pop down and get something to eat? Maybe that little sandwich shop you took me to over the summer?”

Immediately, Remus shrank further into his corner of the sofa and his fixed smile faded a little, but he didn’t answer right away. “Yeah, maybe,” he replied, “I might just fix myself something here, but you should go grab a bite if you like.”

Hope thought about the ancient biscuits and wondered morbidly what could possibly be in Remus’s kitchen. “Are you sure? It’s my treat.”

His eyes drifted up towards the ceiling as he shook his head. “No, really. It’s okay.”

“Well, maybe we can just fix something together here.” She rose to head for the kitchen, but Remus jumped up and stood in her way.

“No! No, that’s…” He bit his lip, looking trapped and desperate, and Hope’s heart broke.

She placed a hand on his arm. “Remus, I know. _I know.”_ He stumbled out of the way and looked on helplessly as she gently pushed by him to get to the kitchen.

It was as bad as she’d thought it would be. Empty cracker boxes, chocolate wrappers, and half-eaten cans of spam littered the counter. A few dishes lay in the sink, completely colonized by ants. He seemed to be almost out of tea, which, for Remus, was the true giveaway. She recognized, untouched, Sirius’s favorite snacks heaped in a corner. Hope quickly calculated how many weeks had passed since Halloween, compared that to how much food Remus seemed to have consumed, and found the latter figure sorely lacking.

She turned around and returned to the other room, where Remus was curled up once again in his corner of the sofa, feet tucked under him and his head in a hand. She sat next to him and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “Remus,” she almost whispered, “Have you left the flat?” This close, she could smell the weeks of paralysis.

He didn’t respond for several moments, and she felt every shuddering breath he took. Finally he shook his head, but said nothing.

Hope thought about her son at age six, suddenly fighting demons he couldn’t understand. Then as now, she’d had no way to truly help. Nothing she could do would make it disappear, but she was determined to make it easier. She’d find a way.

***

Remus surely could have done the same much quicker with magic, but Hope felt pleased with her work as she looked around the newly-clean kitchen. She had somehow convinced her son to take a shower and while he did, she had moved quickly to gather all the rubbish, wash all the dishes, and scrub down the counters. By the time Remus emerged in clean clothes and with a clean-shaven face, she was working on the main room.

He stopped when he saw her clearing off the coffee table. “Mum, you really don’t need to do that. Please.” She glanced up at him and saw the shame in his downturned eyes, and she stopped cleaning.

“Right. Force of habit, perhaps. You look much better, dear.” He briefly lifted the corners of his mouth and made a beeline for his corner of the sofa. Hope blocked his path, and he looked at her, confused. “Shall we grab a bite?” she asked softly.

He inhaled deeply and started to shake his head, but, meeting his mother’s eyes, deflated a little. “Alright.”

As they made their way down the street towards the corner sandwich shop, Hope linked her arm with Remus’s, as though by doing so she could keep even his mind from wandering too far from the present. Across the street, an old man, perched on a stoop, called out. “Lupin! Oy! Lupin!”

Both mother and son stopped and turned, and Hope felt Remus tense next to her but his smile was well-faked. “Alright there, Hank?” he replied.

The man--Hank--grinned. “Knew it was you. Where you been, you wanker? Haven’t seen you in weeks, yeah? Or Black, neither. Half the block thought you both died.”

Remus’s smile tightened. “Not dead yet, Hank. I’ll see you later, yeah? Taking my mum for a sandwich.” Without waiting for an answer, he turned and hurried the rest of the way down the block, head bent low. Hope had to scramble to keep up with her son’s long stride, but she didn’t say anything. At least he was moving.

A bell rang above their heads as they entered the sandwich shop. It was slightly dinghy but brightly lit, nearly empty but still full of laughter as the woman behind the counter leaned over to chat with a small family. When Hope and Remus walked in, she looked up and beamed, bright as anything. _“Remus Lupin!_ God in heaven, you’re alive.” The family, too, shouted their hellos.

A part of Hope wanted to punch them all for staring; a part of her was oddly proud that so many cared about her son. As Remus tried to converse to the best of his ability, Hope interrupted. “I’m terribly sorry, ma’am, but I’m about as hungry as can be. Perhaps we could go ahead and order our food?” Remus shot her a grateful look.

As they sat and ate their sandwiches in silence, Hope considered it a mild success. He was out of the flat, at least, and eating real food, albeit slowly. The piece of her heart that always ached for Remus was bleeding for him now. Saying nothing, she reached out and squeezed his hand, at which he smiled with his mouth only.

After several minutes, the shop owner flitted over to their table and leaned forward on her elbows. “So where have you been, love? Used to be I saw you near every day, and then nothing all winter.” The woman was a little older than Hope, perhaps fifty, and her dark skin stretched tautly over her thin frame. The eager way she looked at Remus served as a reminder for Hope that her son lived a life wholly separate from his mother, containing characters and chapters she would possibly never know.

When Remus waited a little too long to answer, Hope stepped in. “He was staying with me and his father, back near Newport. I’m Hope, by the way, Remus’s mother.”

The woman gave Hope an appraising look and extended her hand. “Well, Hope, it’s lovely to meet you. I’m Agatha. Your son is a fixture in the neighborhood, so missing him for near two months was something strange.” She turned again to Remus and gave a teasing grin. “And Sirius? Was he staying with your parents, too?”

Remus, tight-lipped, shook his head but said nothing. Hope, irritated again, asked, aggressively friendly, “How long have you owned this shop? It’s a lovely place.” Agatha narrowed her eyes for a moment, but complied with Hope’s change of subject, engaging in small talk until the bell rang and another customer came in.

Once she had left Remus stood abruptly. “Let’s go,” he choked, not waiting for Hope and hurrying out. Hope rushed after him, following as he stumbled into an alley and abruptly vomited.

She hadn’t felt so helpless in years. Once they had learned how to handle the wolf, there was a monthly litany of things she could do for her son, concrete ways to make the transformation easier, concrete ways to protect him and others. This was something new, she thought, a horror she could never alleviate. All his friends, dead, and his lover responsible? Who could recover?

But she had to try. So she comforted her son as he shook and hyperventilated, tried to clean him up, and eventually walked him very briskly back to his flat, avoiding any neighbors on the way.

***

She let him sleep. She didn’t like it, necessarily, and she didn’t like that he sunk into that same damn corner of the sofa, but she let him sleep. While he did so, she continued her one-woman cleaning mission, eradicating what signs of squalor she could. It seemed that he’d barely set foot in the bedroom, and all of Sirius’s things were still everywhere. It couldn’t be healthy to live amidst so much detritus, but she hesitated to move them.

While Remus slept, she walked to the grocery down the street and bought fresh food for her son. She reckoned the conversation she wanted to have might go down better if she cooked something good to go with it.

As she was returning, Hank, the old man from the stoop, called out to her. “Oy, you Lupin’s mother?” She nodded, smiled briefly, and kept walking briskly by. “No, hold up! Please, mum.”  He scrambled up and ran after her. Hope tensed up, her shoulders rising nearly to her ears. She was so close to the flat.

Hank was insistent. _“Please._ I gotta know what’s what with him, yeah? Where’s he been? And Black, is he back too?” Up close, Hank was remarkably unthreatening. His eyes were welling up, worried and wonderful.

Hope gave him a small smile. “Remus has been staying with my husband and me, near Newport. As for Sirius, he’s moved out. Left London, actually.”

The man was crestfallen. “What, they’ve split? Bloody hell. Those two _split?_ They were meant to make it.” Hope was taken aback slightly; she was never sure how close a secret Remus and Sirius kept their relationship, but that a neighborhood acquaintance knew was somewhat shocking. Hank misread her surprise and tried sloppily to cover his tracks. “I mean, best mates, those two, can’t imagine one without the other. Always, er, bringing home different girls, their flat was almost like--”

Hope interrupted, laughing a little. “It’s okay, Hank, I know about them. I was just surprised you did, that’s all. And--yes. They were meant to make it. But sometimes…” She trailed off, and Hank nodded sagely. “If you could perhaps encourage people not to ask about Sirius?”

“Got it. Thanks for the chat, mum. I hope...I hope it turns out right for him. You got a good son.” Pride swelled in her chest, and she walked the last few steps to the flat and climbed the stairs.

Remus didn’t stir when she walked in, and so Hope crept into the kitchen and began to chop carrots and potatoes. The act was meditative, and as she settled into the rhythm of knife against root, she considered exactly how to approach the situation. It was clear to her that drastic steps had to be taken before Remus would improve. Drastic steps and a long time. She thought about her sister all those years ago, laid out on the bed next to an empty bottle of pills, and shuddered. Not Remus. She wouldn’t let it happen.

It was amazing how many things even in the kitchen assaulted her with memories of Sirius. That pan she’d once seen him use to kill a rat. The spatula she would hand to him, coated in biscuit dough, as Remus rolled his eyes fondly. She could almost hear Sirius’s teasing voice as she opened the oven-- _“Hey, Moony, did the cooking skills skip a generation? Or have you just given up trying to compete with your mother?”_

Once the stew was on the stove and the biscuits were in the oven, she reentered the main room and sat down next to Remus, waking him gently. He sat up and squinted. “What time is it?”

“Near eight. I’m cooking lamb stew and biscuits.”

He sniffed and the trace of a smile appeared on his face. “God, smells just like home. Thank you, mum.”

Hope nodded, stroked his head, paused. Finally, she inhaled deeply and said, “Remus, we have a lot to talk about. I understand you likely don’t want to talk about any of it. We need to, though.”

Her words had an immediate effect, seeming to physically deflate Remus. It was amazing, she thought, that her son, despite his long and lanky frame, could suddenly appear so very small. “Mum…” he started, unconsciously turning away from her. “We don’t, really. It’s okay.”

She tried not to laugh; she tried not to cry. “Remus, it’s not.” Straightening her spine, she added, “Besides, you haven’t much choice, now that I’m cooking such a wonderful meal for you. Food will come to you only in return for conversation.” She tried to inflect this with some levity. It was not easy.

Especially as Remus rolled his eyes a little, pulled the sleeves of his sweater further over his hands. “Seems an easy enough choice to me. Haven’t been hungry in two months, why should I start now?” He must have seen Hope’s pained expression, because he sighed and said, “Only kidding.”

“I know you aren’t.” She stood. “I’ll serve the food in a few minutes. If you’d rather we eat in here, we can, but I’ve cleared off the little table as well.” She retreated to the kitchen under the pretext of checking on the stew in order to give Remus a moment to collect himself.

***

He had chosen to eat at the table, for which Hope was grateful. She spooned out a bigger serving of stew than she knew he’d eat, but she could only be optimistic. Remus picked up a fork and prodded at the food like it pained him.

Sitting across from him, Hope dove in, praying she was doing it right. “Let’s start on the easier side. What have you been doing, day to day, since Halloween?”

Remus sighed and didn’t answer for several moments. “Sleeping,” he finally said, “Thinking. Writing or reading. Not too much, but it’s been alright.”

“Not working?”

A hollow laugh. “Not for months. Not since before Halloween, even. Don’t think I’ve had a job since July or August.”

“How are you paying rent?”

He shrugged, barely. “Before, the Order--that’s Dumbledore and everyone--was helping. Now, I’m not sure if I haven’t been evicted because he’s still paying, or because my landlord doesn’t care yet.”

Hope tried not to let her anger show. She would never stop being grateful to Dumbledore, but once the Potters had died, she had learned a lot more about the danger her son had been in for years. Danger into which Dumbledore seemed to have placed him without a second thought.

“What about transforming?” she asked as gently as she could.

Remus’s breath was ragged. “The wolf can’t get out of here if I put the right spells up. And silencing charms. To keep the neighbors from minding.”

“But how has it been?”

He shook his head. “Fine. Normal.”

She wanted to scream; he wasn’t giving her anything. There was no doubt in her mind that his transformations had been far from fine, but she couldn’t see him admitting to anything much. She decided if she wanted him to be honest, she would just have to do the same. “Remus, I’m incredibly scared for you right now. I haven’t felt this scared for you since you were first bitten. I’m unsure how I can help you because you won’t tell me what you’re feeling, where you are.”

His smile, after a pause, might have fooled anyone who wasn’t a Lupin. “Mum, I’m sorry for scaring you. Really, though, you don’t need to worry. I’ve been pretty low, but I mean, of course I have. Who wouldn’t, after losing everyone? But I’m coming out the other side. Don’t worry.” As though to prove his point he impaled a chunk of potato and chewed it slowly.

Stubborn as his father, Hope thought. What would Lyall do here? Probably take Remus’s word at face value, enjoy supper, and turn in early. Really, it was shocking that her son thought she could believe him. She’d already seen how Sirius was haunting the place, already gotten Remus to admit he hadn’t left the flat in months, already seen him vomit in an alley after being asked too many questions.

 _I know you’re lying,_ she thought. “I’m glad to hear things are looking up,” she said. “Does that mean you’ve found a job? Or perhaps that you’re moving, or looking for a flatmate?”

He didn’t have a response, as she knew he wouldn’t. He just ate another potato.

 _“Remus,”_ she said, standing suddenly. She crossed her arms, paced a little. “Will you please stop? I am not a fool or an idiot, and I’m insulted that you would take me for one. You know I know. Why bother hiding it?”

“What is it I’m hiding?” It was like there was absolutely nothing behind Remus’s eyes in that moment, just a vacant half-smile. “Mum, I think you need to calm down.”

She wanted to scream. She wanted to wring his neck, a little, but also to wrap him up and take him home, somewhere safe.Somewhere without Sirius’s ghost. Hope slumped into her chair and began to eat her stew in silence. She would wait for him.

He remained silent, and seemed to grow more and more constrained. His face became concrete, a brutalist edifice as impenetrable as it was immobile. His hand, traveling from the plate to his mouth, was restricted and jerky in motion. Eventually he stopped eating all together, and as Hope dabbed at her mouth with a napkin and began to clear her plate away, she glanced over to see him staring hard at the last of his stew.

“Can I take your plate?” she asked, and Remus jumped in surprise, sending his fork flying. He gave her a slight nod, but remained glued to his chair. He looked so afraid.

She washed both dishes, taking longer than she had to. Trying to devise a new strategy. The problem seemed to be that Remus would reveal nothing unless he either wanted to or felt he had no choice. She hated to corner her son, but was that the only way to get him to tell her anything true?

When she turned to return to the table, she found Remus leaning against the doorframe. He still looked scared, but he was trying his best to absolutely smother it. A smile, probably intended to be casual but achieving the opposite effect, accompanied his words. “I’ll put fresh sheets on the bed for you, mum. And feel free to use my soap if you’d like to shower.”

“I don’t mind the couch, dear, really.”

His smile tightened. “No, it’s okay. What kind of son would let his mother sleep on a couch?”

Hope was so tired. She let him make the bed for her.


	2. Chapter 2

When Hope woke with the sun, she didn’t immediately remember where she was, not until she glimpsed the clock Lyall proudly gave Remus last year. 7:30. 

As she stretched her aching back, sore from the terrible mattress Sirius had found at a Salvation Army, Hope ran through the previous day in her head and wanted to cry. Instead, she padded quietly into the kitchen where she found the phone and called Lyall.

“Lupin residence,” came his crisp reply.

“Lyall.” she felt her shoulders relax a little at his voice.

“Hope,” he responded, and she could hear a faint smile. “How are you? How is Remus doing?”

She paused. “Not very well. I think...I’d like him to come home.”

“Won’t he be coming home in a few weeks?” Lyall asked, mild confusion coloring his query. He was so much worse at understanding her when he couldn’t see her eyes.

Hope sighed and leaned her head against the wall. “No. I mean, I think he needs to come home for…a while. To stay.”

There was a brief silence, and Hope could almost see the wrinkles forming between Lyall’s eyebrows. “I don’t understand. You want him to move home? Does he want to?”

_ Of course you don’t understand, you obtuse man,  _ she thought. To Lyall, she replied, “He does not want to, but he doesn’t want anything right now. He’s so depressed, it’s frightening, and I’m scared if no one’s watching over him… I’m scared for the worst.”

“Hope, dear. He’s a grown man, and if he wants to live in London, I don’t know that you have the right to simply call him home because you think he’s depressed.” Hope bristled at his tone on “depressed” which was, as ever, dismissive and disdainful of the entire concept.

“Lyall. I am going to get our son home and then you’ll see what I mean. Please don’t give me any wizard bullshit about depression not being real; I don’t think I can take it today.” She lowered her voice. “You know what happened to my sister. Please don’t take that tone.”

He said nothing for a moment, because what could he say? She was right. Finally, he inhaled and said, “You’re right, I’m sorry. I love you and I trust you. You didn’t tell me how  _ you’re _ doing in this.”

There he was, the man she melted for. “It’s awful, Lyall,” she said softly. “I want to hold him like we used to. I know that’s not what works anymore, but I just want to save him. And...it’s so odd being here without Sirius. I miss him, which I feel horribly wrong about, knowing what we know. And so I can only imagine how that’s amplified for Remus.”

“God, I didn’t even think about that, being in the flat…” Lyall trailed off, before quietly and thoughtfully saying, “I miss him too, oddly. You’re right, that I feel guilty about it. I just...always trusted that he would fight for Remus when Remus wouldn’t fight for himself. I suppose we miss the man we thought he was, maybe a man who never existed…” 

Hope could listen to Lyall ponder all day. It was like a drug for her, the thing that had initially reeled her in. He could think like no one else, aloud and continuously. She let him carry on for a minute as he dissected their relationship to Sirius and what it meant now. 

When she heard Remus getting up from the main room, she cut him off. “Lyall, I need to 

go.”

“Oh,” he was somewhat startled at the abrupt goodbye. “Well, I’ll see you tonight, I suppose? When does your train arrive?” She gave him the details. “Okay. I love you, Hope.”

“I love you, Lyall.” She hung up the phone and her hand lingered on the receiver. Remus was leaning on the door frame when she looked up. “Good morning, dear,” she greeted him, doing her best to be lively. New morning, new day, new start. “Did you sleep well?”

He nodded. “Fine, thanks. And you? I know the mattress isn’t great.”

“Well, no.” She laughed. “But it was fine. I was exhausted from travelling, anyway.” It looked like he was glued to that door frame. “Why don’t you make some tea while I cook breakfast?”

They set to work, frying a few eggs and brewing some tea. Yesterday Hope had bought fresh bread and real fruit, not the packaged and canned rot that Remus had been subsisting on, and she whipped everything up onto two plates. The bright yellow of the yolk contrasted with just about everything else in the flat.

When she had finished, Hope set the plates on the table and Remus carried in two steaming cups of tea. They sat across from each other, right where they had last night to a stalemate. Remus quietly picked at his breakfast, and Hope would not be the one to breach the topic over eggs, so the two ate in silence. 

Hope had once dreamed of having several children. When she and Lyall were first married, she had imagined a house teeming with books and toys, never silent but always with a quiet corner for someone to be still and calm. Yes, she had hoped for several children, but she always felt that, even if they had had loads more, she could never love any of them quite so much as she loved Remus. Because it wasn’t just that she loved him with the depth of a mother’s affection; they also happened to get on wonderfully. She flattered herself they were friends. She visited London frequently, and called more often than that. They had always been able to talk.

Which made  _ this  _ all the more painful. If circumstances were different, they might be working on the crossword, or discussing politics, or gossipping about his cousins. If circumstances were different, they might be doing all that while Sirius, without any clear purpose, flitted from room to room making wry comments every time he passed them. 

Circumstances were as they were, though. Hope cleared her throat. “Will you come shopping with me? I’m determined to buy your father a good suit. He won’t listen to me when I tell him how unprofessional it is to turn up as he does.”

Remus, chewing a bite of egg as though it were taffy, shrugged. “Hm. Well, I hadn’t intended to go shopping today. I’m pretty much flat broke.” He sipped his tea for longer than Hope thought was strictly necessary, and his fingers, tight around the cup, betrayed his unease.

“You don’t need to buy anything, dear, I’d just love the company.” She knew it was a little manipulative, especially as she used her sad smile.

And Remus acquiesced. “Yes, alright. Just...give me a bit, to get ready.”

Hope smiled more brightly. “Oh, wonderful. Take your time, of course. My train’s this evening, not til eight, so we have plenty of time.”

***

As Remus showered, Hope cleaned up, turning over in her mind how best to use their outing. She had no clue, and it hurt. 

Hope  _ always _ had some kind of plan, something she figured might work and at the very least wouldn’t hurt. She had been working with children in social services for over twenty years, had seen the worst of the worst, and always thought of  _ something.  _ But when it was her own son, and he was this far gone, it was like scaling the sheer face of a cliff without rope.

By the time Remus emerged, ready to go, Hope had decided that, circumstances be damned, she would try to engage her son in all their normal topics of conversation. She did her best to both accommodate and overlook Remus’s evident discomfort when they walked out the door. On the street, that same man--Hal? Hank?--was installed, as perhaps he permanently was, on the same stoop. He called out a good morning, to which Remus tersely nodded and Hope smiled, a little. 

As they kept walking, Hope asked, “Is that man always sitting there? I can’t say I ever noticed him before.”

It took Remus a moment to process the question, but he finally nodded. “Hank is usually here about half the month, staying with his ex. And then he goes off to Brighton, I think, or somewhere on the sea, the other half.”

“Do you know him well?”

Remus sighed laboriously. “Yes, quite.”

Hope waited a moment for him to continue, but he showed no signs of doing so. She wanted to scream as they approached the bus stop, but she restrained herself and began to tell him about her brother’s latest calamity. He seemed at least partially engaged, she told herself optimistically, which was certainly better than nothing. He even laughed once, when she broke out her best impression of his pedantic cousin. 

The bus slipped past Remus’s neighborhood and the buildings grew first newer, than older. All cleaner, all impressive, and none anything like the building in which Remus had been convalescing for two months. Perhaps she imagined it, but she thought she could see some weight come off of Remus as he gazed out the window.

When they disembarked they wandered by shop windows. The sky was grey and close, and neither Hope nor Remus seemed to have adequate protection from the cold, but it was still better, Hope thought, than being in that damn flat. 

“Where to?” Remus asked, shoulders hunched against the wind. 

“Liberty. My cousin Martha’s daughter works there now, and said she can get me a deal.”

Remus raised his eyebrows as they set off. “Not to be nosy, mum, but can you afford that right now?” That was two questions he’d asked in a row, Hope noted, vaguely triumphant.

“Don’t worry about  _ that _ , dear. I’ve been saving, and our expenses are lower these days, anyway.” It was mostly true. Things were still tight as they always were, but this year was her turn to get Lyall a gift and she had determined it would be a good one. “Come on, let’s hurry out of this dreadful cold.”

They rushed towards the department store, and Remus seemed rather more winded than was usual by the time the warmth of inside greeted them. The two wandered towards the menswear, and for the first time since she’d arrived, Remus seemed to have opinions. Always one to hold his beliefs more strongly than he expressed them, Remus’s disapproval of this or that suit was communicated more through tone and facial tics than verbal objections. Seeing this filled Hope with something like recognition. This was her son, this was Remus. He laughed with her a time or two, he winced at a particularly awful suit, he squeezed her shoulder when they agreed on the perfect one.

Hope herself winced when it came time to pay, but her cousin’s daughter did give her a sizable discount, albeit with obnoxious pity in her eyes. Bag in hand, she looked up at Remus. “Anywhere you’d like to go?” She saw immediately the uncertainty he felt at the question, and so after giving him a moment, she linked elbows with him. “Let’s go to the tea shop your grandmother always used to love. We can relax and have a nice cup.” It wasn’t far, but the wind was unforgiving, and so by the time they arrived, Remus and Hope nearly fell into the tea shop, both laughing a little. 

They were sipping their tea and discussing Arthur Scargill and his Union when Hope fully appreciated the situation for what it was: almost normal. Her son sat across from her, animated in a way he likely hadn’t been since Halloween, listening to her updates on all he’d missed and weighing in with his own thoughts. Should she ruin this moment by returning to the subject he least wanted to discuss? Or was this precisely the moment to do it?

He made the decision for her after a moment of shared silence. “Mum...I’m sorry. I’m sorry I can’t be what I should be right now, or do what I should do, or say anything.” He was staring at his napkin and fiddling with a spoon. Hope’s heart broke again--how many times could a mother’s heart break in a weekend?--as she watched him war with himself. He continued, his voice a blade of grass under the shadow of a boot. “I can’t change anything. I can’t admit to anything. And I’m completely on my own.”

_ “No.  _ Remus, of course you aren’t. I’m right here.”

He shut his eyes. “I know, but mum, I’m so alone _.  _ They are all gone and I’m the only one left.” Hope knew that he was right in some way, that his parents, however much they might love him, could not make up what had been lost when what had been lost was essentially his whole world. 

“Remus…” she reached out and squeezed his hand. “Come home. Stay with us for a while.” His face, so open a mere moment before, began to shutter closed. “Please, Remus.”

“I can’t…” the combination of frustration and fear returned to his features as he shook his head. “I can’t just leave London. I can’t just move home. That’s like...giving up.”

_ And rotting in your flat for months isn’t?  _ She thought. Aloud, she said, “Of course it isn’t. You’re so young, Remus. You wouldn’t be quitting life halfway through. Just taking a breather.”

“No, I can’t,” he repeated, more agitated now. “I can’t just leave.”

_ “Why?”  _

He shrugged helplessly. “I can’t.” 

She made no response, choosing instead to let them sit in their silence. She had made progress, she knew. She didn’t think it was quite enough, but for now perhaps it would have to be. After a moment, she gently slid back into conversation, shifting the topic back to easier terrain. “Oh, by the way, you might not have heard about Mr. Kleine’s daughter?” He hadn’t, of course, and so Hope told the whole feel-good tale of almost miraculous recovery.

By the time they had discussed it, it was about noon, and Hope suggested they find something to eat. Remus, not quite recovered from his earlier admissions, suggested quietly that they head towards the flat and eat at Agatha’s sandwich shop again before returning home. Hope didn’t love it, but she agreed. As the bus wound its way back, it had the opposite effect on Remus as the earlier ride had had. He seemed to grow smaller and tighter until, when they got off the bus, the improvements Hope had noted throughout the morning were all undone.

***

Their time in the sandwich shop was better than yesterday. Remus was able to speak with Agatha a bit, and once again Hope felt in her a sense of pride.  _ Yes,  _ she thought,  _ This is my son, this young man whom you dote on. I knew he was special before any of you knew he existed. _

But when they reentered the flat itself, Hope knew nothing had really changed. She could almost hear Remus’s mind wind down, or maybe wind up, and he darted his way to the sofa to sink into the same spot he’d been glued to all weekend.

She herself felt almost assaulted when she walked in. It was as though yesterday, by spending a day in the flat, she had become acclimated to Sirius’s ghost, but a morning so removed from not only the physical place but the energy it carried had primed her for a brand new shock. Looking at Remus, she could see the same thing play out in his face.

How could she hope to get to the root of things if they never talked about the root of things? If they danced around Sirius and his pervasive presence?

Settling next to Remus, Hope decided to face it. Softly, she began, “He always was so very loud, wasn’t he? Even when he wasn’t saying anything.” Remus seemed to freeze, and a sideways glance showed his eyes, full of terror. “And he’s still very much here, still so loud. I’m sure you feel it.” What an idiotic thing to say. Of  _ course  _ he did.

Remus still made no answer, but he seemed to be shaking. Hope, unsure exactly where to go, pressed on blindly.  _ Let this be right, please, let this be it. _ “It feels odd, I feel guilty over it, but I do miss him. I miss Sirius, the one I thought I knew. Everything in this flat makes me miss him.”

And as she said this, her son began to sob. In a way she hadn’t seen all weekend, his body shook and he wept. Hope fought back her own tears and gently pulled her son into her embrace. This was not victory, this was not what she wanted, but she  _ knew _ , from years of experience and from her gut, that this needed to happen. Blank eyes and absent smiles and hollow words had nothing to do with the processing of grief, not truly. She wondered how many times he had let himself cry at all since Halloween.

There they stayed as Remus’s sorrow poured out of him, prompted by his mother’s honesty, and she said nothing for a long time. She briefly regretted how seldom she had let Remus see her cry; as a mother, she told herself to put on a collected front no matter what, but perhaps he had absorbed the lesson too well. Pushing the thought out of her mind, for what good could her own retrospection possibly be right now, she did her best to comfort Remus.

Hope couldn’t say how much or how little time passed before his breath began to even and he quieted, but when he did, she remained silent, giving him space to speak what he would.

Finally, shakily, he said simply, “I miss him so much,” and began to cry anew.

Hope rubbed his shoulder, and as softly as she could, replied, “Wouldn’t it be easier somewhere else?”

Through his tears, he shakes his head. “I can’t leave, I can’t. I have to stay here.” 

“Why?” He hadn’t answered when she’d asked earlier, but maybe now, if she was patient, he might. “Why can’t you come home with me?”

Remus didn’t respond for a few moments. Finally, almost too soft for Hope to hear, he said, “This is our flat. This is home. If he…I  _ know  _ it’s wrong. I  _ know  _ I’m crazy. But if he came back… I can’t leave.” He grew agitated as he spoke, pressing his nails into the couch cushion.

Hope couldn’t say much to that. Like he said, he knew it wasn’t rational, so she didn’t need to convince him of that. She just had to convince him to leave.

From an outsider’s perspective, Hope thought, one of the miracles of Remus’s and Sirius’s relationship had been the ability of each to talk down the other. Though in very different ways, both had a tendency to follow thoughts too far, Remus’s coiling in tighter spirals and Sirius’s speeding away from the center. She had seen her son reign in Sirius’s racing thoughts, and she had seen Sirius coax Remus out from inside his head. She had thought it a wondrous and beautiful thing, though like everything else about Sirius, she now had to view it through the lens of retrospect. 

Whatever hidden motivations or secrets Sirius had kept, though, the fact remained that he had been able to say the right words, act the right way, to get Remus away from the center of the black hole. Now, with noone to help him do this, Remus seemed to have folded completely in on himself. Solitude could do that to a person.

“You don’t have to leave, then,” Hope finally said. “Just come home early for Christmas. A nice, protracted holiday could be perfect for you.” Hope was certain she could convince him to abandon this haunted flat if only he could escape it long enough to remember the world existed outside of it. Hopefully he believed she was conceding; she knew she was not.

Remus was silent for a few moments, before finally sighing. “Okay. I can look at train tickets this week.”

“Why not just--come with me tonight?”

Again, Remus’s fists clenched and he seemed to shrink. “I’m not packed or anything. I couldn’t just go.”

“We have time, Remus. A few hours. You could.” What was the right balance of forcefulness and gentleness? How best to convince him? “You should. Please.” Perhaps with a tone that was equal parts pleading and firm.

“I can’t--” he paused and bit his lip, considering his words. “I can’t pack anything. All my things are in  _ there.”  _ His eyes darted quickly towards the bedroom, and Hope understood. Sirius was loudly present in that room, more so than anywhere else. His insistence that she sleep on the bed last night began to make more sense.

“Let me pack for you, then.  _ Please,  _ Remus, come home with me. Come home.” 

And he relented with the smallest nod. Hope squeezed his shoulder before rising to go pack, and he buried himself further into the sofa.

***

Outside a driving wind shook the bedroom window, and Hope shivered a little as she looked at her work. She had packed for Remus as many clothes as could be deemed reasonable, but the rest of the room she had packed as well. He might only take one suitcase today, but the rest would be ready. 

She had, as best she could, gathered Sirius’s belongings and consolidated them in the closet. She couldn’t quite muster anger against him, somehow. As she turned to go and picked up hers and Remus’s suitcases, she saw a polaroid picture on the ground underneath where her luggage had been. It was one of those wizard photograph, and as she picked it up her heart dropped a little. There was Remus, perhaps a year ago, smiling contentedly and waving at her from his kitchen. And next to him sat--stood-- _ bounced  _ Sirius, as kinetic in film as he was in life. The Remus in the photo laughed as Sirius leaned down to kiss his cheek. Hope felt the pinprick of tears as she put the photo in her purse. Perhaps, a long time from now, she could give it to Remus. Maybe.

It was time to go. “Remus?” she called, for he wasn’t on his sofa. He didn’t respond, so she set down the suitcases by the door and went into the kitchen. “Remus?”

He was standing over the sink. Though Hope had done her best to clean yesterday, the teeming colony of ants would not be wiped out so easily, and Remus was watching in consternation as they emerged from the drain. When he noticed his mother standing next to him, he gave her a brief glance and a briefer smile before turning his gaze back to the insects. “Won’t they be everywhere when I come back?” he asked her slowly. 

She wasn’t sure what to say. The answer was almost certainly yes. “We don’t need to worry about that now, dear.” 

He nodded slightly, but then suddenly pulled his wand out of a pocket and cast a spell which drew every last ant towards him before opening the window and expelling them out of the house. For now. “I’m ready,” he said.

They wrapped up, Remus taking much longer than would normally be required to put on a coat and scarf. He picked up his suitcase, knuckles white, and Hope gave him an encouraging smile. She exited the flat and turned to see Remus standing in the doorway, looking back at his home. She placed a hand on his arm, and neither said a word. Finally, Remus shut the door.

On the street the sky was vast and the air new. Street lights bathed them in warm artificial light, and the moon smiled cooly down. Across the street, a voice Hope now recognized called out to them. “Alright there, Lupin? Mrs. Lupin?”

Remus took a deep breath of the frigid air. “I’m going to say goodbye,” he told Hope, setting down his suitcase and striding across the street.

Hope watched as Hank and Remus talked for a minute. She noted the familiarity between the two and reminded herself again of the big, broad life her son had lived. She promised herself that he would live again, the sign of her success being new chapters about which she would never know. Hank stood suddenly, and Hope saw a shift in his posture, perhaps defensive, perhaps scared. Remus shrugged and looked down. Then, Hank wrapped Remus in a long hug, long enough that Remus returned it.

When he approached Hope again, his eyes shone with unshed tears. “Ready?”

Casting one last glance at the old building, Hope said a silent and final goodbye to Sirius Black. She threaded her arm through Remus’s. “Let’s go, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading (and for being patient with this update! I know it took approximately forever.) I have a lot of feelings about what I've written; feel free to chat in the comments if you also have feelings!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed. Probably won't be able to post chapter two for a while, as I enter finals season :/ but hopefully it will be worth the wait, in terms of some emotionally satisfying content?


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